


This Heart That Glows Like An Ember

by dixiehellcat



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Christmas, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gift Giving, Holidays, Iron Family, Pepperony Gift Exchange 2019, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pregnancy, Santa Claus - Freeform, Surprises, Tony Stark Bingo 2019, Tony Stark Lives, idk them, the Russos whomst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21904753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixiehellcat/pseuds/dixiehellcat
Summary: My first attempt at a gift fic swap! This is for the Pepperony gift exchange 2019, for my giftee innitmarvelous.Christmas Eve, after the universe is saved. Tony Stark can rest.ETA, also submitted for December 2019 Tony Stark Flash Bingo! Card 008, prompt 'Joy'
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau (mentioned), Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Nebula/James "Rhodey" Rhodes (hinted at), Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 19
Kudos: 66
Collections: Tony Stark Flash Bingo





	This Heart That Glows Like An Ember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InnitMarvelous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnitMarvelous/gifts).



> When I started, I didn't expect to end up with a whole other post-Endgame fix-it verse, but, here you go. I hope you like it!
> 
> Soundtrack notice--dear reader, if you like, at the point in the story when Tony asks FRIDAY to play some old school Christmas music, you can open Spotify and pull up the playlists Wartime Christmas and Ultra Lounge Christmas Cocktails.
> 
> The story title comes from the song Warm December by Julie London, the one Tony and Pepper dance to near the end of the story. It's in the Christmas Cocktails playlist, or you can hear it alone here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=573JiFpQ_PY
> 
> Teen rating is just for a few cuss words.

The smell of coffee brewing led Tony out of dreams. He sighed, shifted in bed, and enjoyed the comfort and quiet, until little feet pounded across the floor, followed by a resounding thump on the mattress. A reflexive groan escaped him as the world tipped and jostled, and his eyes popped open to see Morgan’s horrified little face. “Oh,” she squeaked. “I’m not supposed to jump on the bed when you’re in it. I know! I’m sorry. I forgot. Are you okay, daddy? I didn’t make you dizzy, did I?”

He was a little woozy, but only briefly. “Nope, I’m good. What’s got you all wound up, Morgoona?”

She gave his feigned cluelessness a scowl that rivaled her mother’s. “Daddy! It’s Christmas Eve! Santa’s coming!” Her scramble off the bed was marginally more measured. “We need to feed Gerald. Should we leave some extra hay out tonight for the reindeer? I bet they get hungry flying. Aunt Carol does, and they’re bigger than her.”

Tony sat up slowly. “I think that is a capital idea, young lady, but you are not going out to feed an alpaca in your pajamas. People would wonder how you got the alpaca into your pajamas, for one thing.” Morgan’s giggle was a better mood-elevator than champagne bubbles ever had been. Changing position first thing in the morning was one of the most challenging times for his impaired balance, and he secretly wished Morgan wasn’t here to see; he was always concerned he might have a sudden bout of dizziness and fall in front of her. Traumatizing his baby was not something he intended to do ever again.

With a deep breath and the easy motions his therapist had drilled into him, he gained his feet and stretched, then wrangled her back into her bedroom to supervise her dressing. A little hand grabbed his and led him downstairs, where a fire crackled on the hearth. Beside it stood their tree, decked with construction-paper chains and ornaments made from juice pop sticks. It was the least fancy decoration this billionaire had ever tolerated under his roof, and the most beloved.

Pepper and Nebula were in the kitchen making breakfast. “How’re you this morning?” Pepper asked.

Tony kissed her and made finger guns at Nebula, who returned the gesture absently, her focus on mixing pancake batter as intense as if she were battling an alien invasion. “Vertical. As good a start to the day as any. Watch Madame Secretary here while I wash up?”

Morgan began setting the table while he went back upstairs. Caution was doubly essential when he was alone in the bathroom; a few falls were a few too many. He had sworn to Pepper, after Thanos, that his risk-taking days were over. Yeah, it irritated him that washing his ass unsupervised could now qualify as thrill-seeking behavior, but the alternative would have been far worse. So, for the love of those females downstairs and a few other folks scattered around the cosmos, he took it slow, sat when he felt tipsy, and was grateful for the opportunity to.

He put on comfortable sweatpants, a t-shirt, and the red plaid cardigan Rhodey had given him last Christmas as a joke. He called it Tony’s grandpa sweater. Joke was on Rhodey, because the thing was sinfully soft and cozy. Tony wore it constantly, often when, as today, he knew Rhodey was coming over, just to fuck with him. Morgan was almost vibrating with excitement when Tony reclaimed her, but Pepper refused to let either of them leave the house until they had their own breakfasts. Nebula’s pancakes showed a commendable learning curve; the ones on the bottom of the stack were pale on one side and overbrowned on the other, but the last ones were nearly perfect.

Taking Gerald grain and hay in winter, when there wasn’t much greenery to pick and Pepper’s berry bushes were bare, was one of the highlights of Morgan’s day. The beast tolerated Pepper and grunted at Tony (at least it hadn’t spat at him…yet) but it loved Morgan and hummed at her happy chatter, for all the world as though hanging on her every word. There were days Tony thought Gerald was probably a better conversationalist now than he was.

After Gerald got his meal, Morgan was ready to spread a lovely buffet for Santa’s team. “Mommy and Nebula are baking cookies for Santa, so the reindeer deserve equal treatment. They do the real work, he just sits in the sleigh and drives.” Tony wondered how he was apparently raising a tiny social activist. After a moment’s thought, he decided to blame MJ. Morgan adored Peter’s sort-of-girlfriend who was never shy about voicing her opinions. The girl reminded Tony entirely too much of Pepper sometimes.

Tony arranged the reindeer snacks to Morgan’s satisfaction about the time he started to tire out. He was ready to tell her daddy needed a sit-down, when a familiar car pulled up. “Uncle Rhodey!” Morgan squealed and jumped into his arms.

There was no hiding his fatigue from Rhodey, no matter how hard he tried. One look, and Rhodey squished his niece and sent her off to her mom and big sis in the kitchen. “I’m gonna sit out here with your old man for a minute and talk guy talk,” he said with a wink. Tony hated like hell to have to lean on his friend, when Rhodey had enough issues of his own getting around, but the latest iteration of the leg braces fit beneath pants and had Rhodey moving almost as smoothly as before his accident. He reached Tony’s side in an instant. “Hey, Tones.”

“Hey, sourpatch. Think we can come up with a way to bottle that kid’s energy? Could be a whole new market for old farts like us.”

Rhodey chuckled, and did that thing he did, where he guided Tony to a seat on the porch steps without ever seeming to do more than slap him on the back. “Regular fountain of youth,” he agreed.

“Not like they need us all that much.” Tony eased his butt down with a grunt.

“Speak for yourself,” Rhodey jibed as he settled beside him. “You and your old man sweater.” Tony elbowed him. “Carol says hey by the way, and merry Christmas. She’s in Louisiana with her lady and fam, of course. Haven’t heard from anybody else since I got back from Indonesia though. You?”

“Talked to Barton last week. Wanda’s still missing Vision, but she’s settling in, and his brood’s good.” Tony smiled. “Glad we ended up teamed for the time heist. It cleared up the bad blood between us, and gotta admit, he kept me on an even keel in 1970 after I ran into dad. Although the shithead will probably never let me live down my serious lack of spy game. Still calls me Howard Potts. Not that I mind the last name, but, damn, let the joke go, Legolas.” Rhodey snorted. “And see, now, people laughing about it just encourages him. Traitors, all of you.” His scolding only emboldened Rhodey’s laughter. “Glad you made it back for the holidays, honeybear. Thought that terrorist cell would eat the rest of your year, and we hadn’t seen you in too long. I was considering a time jump just to remind myself what you looked like.”

“Uh-uh.” Rhodey wagged a finger. “Retired means retired, Tones. No more time heists. You’re right though, it’s been too long. Hell, I’ve seen Wilson and Barnes since I saw you last. They’re doing okay, still helping SHIELD get things back in line around the world. Sam’s working with the Cap shield, getting mighty good with it, especially when Buck riles him up.”

“I can imagine,” Tony snorted. “Steve and Natasha are coming for dinner tonight, so it’ll be nice to catch up with them. Guess you’re going to your mom’s? You know you have to come in and see Pep and Neb before you go.”

He went to stand; Rhodey beat him to his feet, and when Tony faltered, a dependable hand was there to steady him. “How’s the inner ear?”

Tony shrugged. “Hearing’s stable, thank fuck. Vertigo’s no walk in the park, but better than any of the alternate universes’ possibilities. Strange said he saw several where I lost my arm, and one where I ended up, y’know, dead. I’ll take this over that.”

“Bearing in mind you said he told you at one point there was only one scenario where we beat Thanos, out of how-the-fuck many, we definitely came out ahead.” Rhodey gazed toward the lake. “When I got to you, after you snapped…for a second, I really thought it was the die part of ride or die, the big one we always talked about. Then you moved and started cussing, and Carol scooped you up and headed for the nearest portal—” He shook his head. “That better be the last time, I’m getting old too and my heart can’t take any more of your shit.”

“Fine,” Tony pretended to be affronted. “I’m not Iron Man’ing actively anymore, anyhow. Passing the mantle on to the next generation.”

“Yeah, how is Harley?"

“Spending Christmas with his mom and sister in Tennessee, of course, but he’s insinuating they might come up to New York for New Year’s Eve. Anything I can do to keep his wild country ass out of Times Square, I’ll do.”

They laughed quietly together now. “I know it has to hurt, not being able to fly missions anymore. Been there, done that; you know it better than anybody else.”

“It’s okay. I still get out and fly, on good days. Pepper’s threatened to bury me in the suit, save money on a casket.” Rhodey made a horrible face, which sent Tony into another spasm of laughter. “No, she didn’t. I made that up.” He put his hand on his best pal’s shoulder. “I’m happy, Rhodey. I’m happier here, like this, than I could ever have imagined being.”

“Yeah.” Rhodey’s tone was reflective, and the smile took in his entire face. “I can see that. When we first met, and for a long time after, as wild as you were, I rarely thought you were actually happy. I see it now, and I’m so damn glad.”

They moved almost in unison, the way they had fighting side by side over the years, but this time into an unstinting embrace. “We’re old saps,” Tony mumbled as he disentangled himself and turned to head inside.

“Yep.” Rhodey sounded as unapologetic as Tony felt.

They followed the scent of baking inside. Pepper greeted Rhodey with delight. As usual, Nebula was less demonstrative, but her pleasure at seeing him was obvious. Pans of cookies were coming out of the oven; Pepper tried to keep Morgan out of them, warning she would spoil her lunch. Morgan just pointed to Tony and Rhodey, who were snickering and making a show of blocking Pepper’s view while they filled their hands. Pepper threw a potholder at Tony who yelped and ducked.

“This is another of your celebratory traditions I am not familiar with,” Nebula mused.

“Throwing potholders is not a holiday tradition!” Tony yelled.

“I meant ‘cookies’, Stark,” Nebula snapped. Most people who crossed paths with her thought her cold and hostile. Tony knew better; he knew and relished her dry wit, and the secret smile she exchanged with Rhodey said they were even more in sync.

“Neb’s a bit dubious,” Pepper said fondly. “She’s been interrogating me about the process and the science the whole time. Go ahead, honey, try one. You’ll see what I mean. Cookies are special, and Christmas cookies are—”

“The special-est!” Morgan chirped, spraying crumbs.

While Pepper gently addressed her daughter’s table manners, Nebula plucked a snickerdoodle from the nearest sheet, eyed it with some trepidation, and finally took a nibble. Her dark eyes grew huge. “I must learn to create these. You will teach me,” she said.

Anybody else might have taken offense at her peremptory tone. Pepper just smiled. “I’m not sure how practical baking cookies on a spaceship would be, but yes, I’ll show you how, and we’ll bake several batches for you to take with you. Keep them away from Drax though; he’ll eat half of them at one sitting.”

“He will not. I will stab him,” Nebula declared.

“I’ll help bake!” Morgan said, her mouth finally clear. “What kinds, mommy?”

“Probably some more snickerdoodles and chocolate chips.”

“Where’s the recipe Bruce sent you, Potts?” Tony inquired. “The Icelandic _pepper_ cookies?”

He nearly got another potholder thrown at him for his trouble. “I think that was a joke,” Pepper said airily. “Cookies with black pepper and paprika? Really?”

“You should be flattered he heard the name and thought of you,” Rhodey mumbled around a bite.

“He heard the name and knew Tony would give me grief about it,” Pepper humphed.

“Of course. I do still have some shreds of a reputation to maintain.” Snark notwithstanding, Tony leaned back and just enjoyed the peace and comfort around him. They hadn’t expected Nebula to spend Christmas with them, but on the Guardians’ last visit Morgan, who had adopted Nebula as her _de facto_ sister during Tony’s hospitalization after Thanos’ defeat, had begged her to come back in December. After hearing a little girl’s excited description of Santa Claus’ exploits, Neb had affirmed she had to see “this strange entity with his craft pulled by flying animals”.

It was nice to see Nebula, as awkward and almost naïve as she still was, learning how to be part of a family. Granted, Tony felt fairly certain she could have picked a better one, but he was thankful she hadn’t. “How long you staying, Neb?” Rhodey asked, an innocent enough question, but something was simmering beneath, Tony suspected.

Nebula’s steady gaze at him before she spoke set that same sense to bubbling. “Several weeks. Thor went to assist the Guardians with a…mission. He left New Asgard in good hands, with Banner and his other associates available to advise Brunhilde. Not that she needs advice; he thinks her a better ruler than he could ever be.”

“With a rep for romance that rivals yours back in the day, Tones,” Rhodey said with a nod. “Well, good, Neb, that’s good, I’m glad. Maybe we can—get together, after Christmas, and catch up?”

“Maybe. You will stay and dine with us?”

Pepper caught Tony’s eye; she was picking up the same vibe he was, judging from the smile she was trying to hide. “Yes, Rhodey, stay for lunch before you head for your mom’s, if you have time.”

Watching Nebula help Morgan settle in her booster seat at the table, and help Pepper make sandwiches and fend off cookie thieves, was a bit surreal, considering how bitter and alienated she had been when Tony first met her. She had come so far from that awful day on Titan till now. For a moment, he let his mind drift back to the ruins of the Avengers Compound…

_The nano-compatibility of the Gauntlet with his suits had been a fail-safe, something Tony had built in as a last-ditch option. As he saw Thanos put the Gauntlet on and announce his intent to destroy all life in the universe, he thought ‘fuck, if this isn’t the break-glass moment, there isn’t one’._

_He jumped the purple asshole, summoned the stones, gasped and shuddered before he mastered the pain. Thanos lunged; Tony was trapped, his suit too shredded to fly, but a small furious figure dropped into the space between them, weapons at the ready. The Titan paused. ‘Step aside, daughter,” he rumbled._

_“Never call me that again!” Nebula screamed. “You are not my father. You killed my father once, I will not allow you to do so again!”_

“Tony?” He came back to himself when Nebula touched his arm. “Come eat.” Her eyes were knowing, when they met his, as if she knew where his thoughts had been.

After lunch and more hugs all around, Rhodey hit the road. Pepper wanted to check in with work, so Tony offered to take Morgan. “I don’t think so,” Pepper said. “We’re going to have a late evening, with company coming, remember. You should get some rest in advance.”

Nebula took Morgan, promising not to let her small sister come to any harm. In her lexicon, that probably meant something like target practice with rocks. Surrendering to the inevitable, Tony went upstairs while Pepper put a roast in the oven, and—took a nap. A _nap_. A life this sedate would have horrified him back in the day; but now, he couldn’t imagine anything better.

He dozed a while, then called Louisiana on a whim. “Happy fuckin’ holidays, Captain Sparklefists. How you doing?”

“Tony!” Carol laughed. “I’m good. Better, now, hearing your voice. How about you?” Before he could give a reassurance, she added, “And don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Stark.”

“I’m okay, Danvers, scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout. The scouts wouldn’t’ve touched you with a ten-foot pole. Rhodes has told me way too much.”

“He’s a backstabber,” Tony mock-griped. “I’m fine, okay? Better than fine. Ask him. Better yet, believe me, would ya?”

“Hey, I so rarely have a chance to be soft, give a gal a chance,” she chuckled, then sobered. “Really, Tony, I…I wish I could’ve done more, shielded you more. I hate knowing—”

“Don’t start, Trinity. You were focused on getting the job done, that’s what had to happen, whatever it took. I knew that. Came out a little worse for wear, but, I’m here, which beats the fuck out of what could’ve been.”

They chatted for a minute before cheery voices in the background summoned her away. Tony lay back and closed his eyes, thinking back again.

_The time-displaced green woman, Gamora, dropped beside Nebula, confronting Thanos. “You will not harm my sister either,” she snarled._

_They attacked him from the front, moving as one, shielding Tony. Beyond them he spied Pepper flying Natasha in from behind, ready to drop her to slit the giant’s throat; but Thanos must have felt them approach and swung his arm, knocking them both out of the sky. Half to his feet, Tony froze, shaking with mingled force and rage. He lifted his trembling hand, the stones’ glow mesmerizing, and was ready to snap alone, when Danvers landed beside him with a thump. “Give me the gauntlet!” she yelled._

_“No time,” he ground out, barely able to talk, clenching his jaw to hold on a little longer. With a couple of vicious swipes, Thanos downed the sisters. Tony couldn’t detach the hand from the nanosuit and pass it off before the bastard reached him._

_“Fine,” Carol groaned and grabbed Tony’s free hand. “Send it through me!”_

_She lit up, Tony closed his eyes against the redoubled fire, and with all his remaining strength, he envisioned his will, his wish to obliterate the adversary, and snapped._

_A howling wind of white flame swept over everything. Pep and Nat getting knocked clear was a blessing; they were outside the range of the unleashed fury. Nebula, Gamora, and Carol were all enhanced; they survived with minimal injury. The only baseline human at ground zero was Tony._

The sound of the bedroom door opening dispelled the memory. Tony opened one eye and saw Pepper peeping in. “You need anything?” He shook his head. “Okay. I’m going to finish wrapping presents. FRIDAY’s keeping an eye on you, so no cheating!”

“Cheat? Me? I’m wounded, Potts, you think so poorly of me.”

“No, I think so accurately of you,” she retorted, slipping into the room and settling lightly on the bed.

“I’d give you an early present right now, but I don’t have wrapping nearby, and it’s a little bit banged up, so, not sure you’d want it.” He punctuated the come-on with his best suggestive smirk.

“And here I thought maybe you only found me attractive in Rescue anymore, after what happened when we got home from our last pleasure flight,” she joked. Tony feigned horror and tried to pull her down. She shook her head and ducked his arm. “Nope, Mr. Stark. You rest so we can entertain our guests, then after Morgan’s in bed…”

“We can get our jingle on?” he leered. She pretended to slap his cheek; he caught her hand and kissed her palm. “Love ya, Pep.”

Her playful expression softened. “Love you, Tony. So much.” She was so beautiful, almost glowing. Yeah, he knew that was a cliché, but it was a cliché for a reason. “Now,” she went on, more briskly, “I’m going to lock myself in the library. No peeking!”

“Or what, you’ll return my present?”

An odd look crossed her face. “Can’t,” she said. “Too late for that.” She backed up with a stern look and a pointed finger. “Behave.”

She scooted off. Tony picked up his tablet and read for a few minutes, then laid it down. “FRI?”

“Miss Potts meant it, boss. I’m authorized to use force if you try to steal a look.”

That made him pause. “Use force?”

There was a pause. “Well, no, but she also authorized me to prevaricate, if need be.”

Tony laughed. “I was only gonna ask you to dim the lights, FRI, no need to get violent. Fifty percent please?” As the room dimmed, he added, “You’ve got entirely too smart a mouth on you, metaphorically speaking.”

“I learned from the best,” she returned. “Nap well, boss.”

He did nap well, without nightmares, and woke to the sound of laughter downstairs and the scent of roast filling the house. After he sat up, he used the moments spent reaching equilibrium to pick out Happy and May’s voices. Had to admit, he had not seen that particular relationship coming, but they both seemed delighted. 

A scream cut through the air, and conversation stopped. Then a second one sounded, and Tony relaxed. How had his ear so quickly become so attuned to the tiniest nuances of a child’s sounds, that he knew without hesitation that what he had heard was Morgan yelling in glee. His heart calmed, he stood and followed the squeals, now joined by other familiar calls, to the bedroom window.

Outside, Peter was shooting webs up into the trees. Nebula was nimbly climbing one thick ropy strand to a fork of branches almost on a level with the window. She sat and peered around, her enhanced eyes spying Tony, and waved to him. Just a foot or two off the ground, Morgan was swinging in a hammocklike construct of webbing, kicking her feet and giggling.

He went downstairs and found more presents under the tree, marked from Peter, and Pepper gone. “She had to run to the store for some last-minute bits,” May said from the kitchen table where she and Happy were sitting over coffee and cookies. “We promised her we’d keep an eye on everything.” May’s track record with cooking didn’t engender a lot of confidence in her monitoring his supper, Tony thought; but Happy was there, and his skills in the kitchen were a closely held but legendary secret. He thanked them and headed outside.

Peter was web-swinging from tree to tree. “Mr. Stark!” he yelped happily.

“I thought we were past that, Parker,” Tony pretended to gripe while the kid landed. They had finally gotten past that weird dancing-around phase of Peter not knowing how much emotion to show and Tony afraid to infect this bright kid with the darkness he had felt in his life for so long. Now the only thing that slowed Peter when he threw himself into Tony’s arms was the wish to not knock his dizzy mentor winding.

“Tony,” Peter whispered into his shoulder, and the sound was a joy.

“Daddy!” Morgan hollered. “Come swing with me! Peter’ll make you a swing.”

“Love to, darling, but no thank you. My poor labyrinthine structures are hard pressed enough to keep me upright with both feet on the ground, I have no desire to imitate a Christmas tree ornament.”

Nebula had shinned most of the way down her rope, looped and knotted the bottom, and was now standing in the loop and swinging back and forth. Peter started to sing Wrecking Ball, off-key. Tony escaped when he spotted Pepper’s headlights coming up the drive. She parked and pulled bags out of the back. Peter hurried over, got a greeting kiss on the cheek from her, and offered to carry the load. “I’ve got everything, thank you,” she said and smacked Tony’s hand away again. “No peeking, mister. Do I have to revisit that training seminar from earlier?”

In hopes he might catch a glimpse of something (just because he was nosy), he accompanied her back inside. An oven-mitted Happy checked the roast; Tony took a deep breath of the delicious aroma, then frowned when he noticed Pepper looking a bit green. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine, just a bit queasy. I stopped for a sausage while I was in town, and I suppose it didn’t sit well with me. I need to go finish wrapping!” Tony hoped as she hurried upstairs that she wasn’t catching something. She usually had a cast-iron stomach—he wasn’t sure he had seen her nauseous since she was pregnant with Morgan.

The thought of greenness made him resolve to call Banner. “Hey, Tony!” the big voice of the Hulked form rang over the connection. “Having a great Christmas. Teaching the Asgardian kids carols, collecting more recipes. Playing the Bumble from Rudolph, decorating the tops of every tree in New Asgard!”

After exacting a promise from his science bro to visit in the new year, Tony slipped off to the garage to put the finishing touches on Pepper’s gift. Her original Rescue suit had been built before he perfected the nanotech, and she had insisted she didn’t need all the bells and whistles for a piece of equipment intended to be almost exclusively defensive. After Thanos, he decided otherwise. Her nanites were housed in a pair of lovely blue cuff bracelets with chased silver and gold accents. The last-minute adjustments took him longer than back in the day, but his injuries had taught him a little patience. Before long, they were ready to wrap. He folded them in a nice Hermes scarf, stuffed it all into a gift bag and looked for some scotch tape. None appeared, so he settled for a couple of pieces of electrical tape artistically (he hoped) placed along the opening.

With the bag held none too subtly behind his back, he swore the bots to secrecy and moseyed back toward the house. The tree-climbers were ground-bound now; Morgan and Peter sat on the steps, her showing him how to do cat’s cradle with what looked like strands of webbing. Nebula watched with her usual intensity. “Morgie-porgie! Got an assignment for you. I need an advance scout and a distraction. Go find your mom and keep her away from the living room long enough for me to nip in and slide something under the tree, okay?”

“Oooh! What is it, daddy?” She dropped her strings in a knot in Peter’s lap and jumped up.

“Ah-ah, no fair. I’m already on FRIDAY’s naughty list and I haven’t even done anything naughty today yet.” The tiny mouth pouted for all of a second or two, before she brightened and dashed off intent on completing her mission.

There was a new present under the tree with Tony’s name on it, not that he was counting, or keeping a running mental map of the location of every one of his gifts. That’d be childish, and weird. Happy was kicked back on the couch with a beer. “May’s minding the store. How you doing, boss?”

“How did every damn body end up my keeper?” Tony asked.

There was no real heat behind the words, and Happy clearly caught that. “Every damn body cares,” he grinned.

Tony raided the kitchen for a bottle of his own and flopped down on the sofa for a breather. “I’m great, Hap. You?” Happy just nodded, his grin not budging. “Look at us,” Tony kidded gently. “I was the poster child for excess, you kept me from killing myself, now we’re both more like the poster children for boring domesticity.”

“Boring?” Happy’s tone was unconvinced.

Tony laughed. “Nope. Not boring. Not bored in the slightest. And if this was boredom, I’d be perfectly content to be bored like this for years to come.” Happy saluted with his bottle, and they chatted about old times, and inconsequential things that of late had become more important to Tony. “Where’s that ugly sweater I bought you? I wear this one, I was expecting you to wear yours.”

“May’s cat sleeps on it.”

“Not my cat. I don’t have a cat. It’s—sort of the neighborhood’s cat?” May floated in with a glass of wine and snuggled up against Happy’s other side. “I’ve been banished. The roast is resting, it’s fine. The kids are trying to make another batch of cookies, and Peter gets embarrassed when I drink in public even though I never drink to excess.” She took another sip and gave Tony a warning look. “This is what you have to look forward to as a parent, Stark.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. May’s snarky half-smile gentled, as if she knew he was thinking how close he had come to not being here to look forward to Morgan being a potential pain in his ass. “The brood’s trying to bake? Maybe I ought to call DUM-E in with his fire extinguisher.”

“Peter’s going to MJ’s house tomorrow. He’s nervous about meeting her parents and he thought maybe if he brought food, they’d be impressed with his versatility.” May finished her wine. “MJ will never believe he actually made them himself, assuming they even turn out, but who am I to judge? I burn water.” Happy started to protest. “Harold, I know you’re trying to bolster my self-confidence, but I know my truth!”

Tony snickered. Happy had threatened Tony with death the one time he had called him Harold. He took a tentative sniff of the air now and then, to catch any evidence of foodstuff afire, but the atmosphere remained clear.

Pepper came downstairs with a few more small wrapped gifts. She tucked them under the tree, pecked Tony’s cheek, then headed for the kitchen. “Need a hand?” he called after her. She shook her head, and a few moments later the outside door slammed; Tony suspected Pep had ejected the usurpers so she could finish supper in peace. “Hey FRI, play some old school Christmas music,” he requested. “Something appropriate for an old guy.”

Tony took his and Happy’s empties to the trash bin in the kitchen, and through the window spied a car pulling up. He headed outside to greet the new arrivals. “Hey, Cap.” Blue eyes cut at him through the driver’s side window in familiar exasperation. “What? You’ll always be Cap to me, at least until Wilson saves the world a few dozen times.”

It was true, even though as Steve got out, Tony reflected again that he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to looking down instead of up at the guy. “Hello to you too, Tony. Merry Christmas.” Morgan ran around the corner of the house, halted for a moment, then ran to Tony’s side. “And Merry Christmas to you, miss Morgan,” he went on.

“Hi, Mr. Steve.” She was still a bit shy of Rogers; Tony wondered if she remembered the day he had come with Lang’s time travel idea, when Pepper had sent her out to ‘rescue’ him, and associated it with her daddy going away and not coming back for a while. His arm dropped to hug her close.

“ _S’rozhdestvom,_ ” Natasha called as she came around the front of the car with a large covered bowl in her gloved hands.

“HI, Miss Natasha!" Morgan chirped. "Nebula’s been teaching me to throw knives! She’s almost as good as you are.” She looked around quickly. “Don’t tell her I said that, I think she thinks she’s better. But daddy says, when you want to learn to do something, you should ex—expose yourself to a variety of styles, so you can take the best from each and develop your own. So I want to learn from you too.”

Steve struggled to hold in his laughter. “You got your inhaler, Rogers?” Tony queried. “I’d really rather you didn’t go into an asthma attack in my driveway.” Steve waved him off. “I…did not know Nebula was teaching her to throw knives,” Tony told Natasha.

“Oh, daddy, they’re just rubber ones,” Morgan huffed, tiny hands on hips. “Neb says I have to be at least eight before I get real ones. What do you think, Miss Natasha?” 

Nat clearly deployed every ounce of the Black Widow’s celebrated cool to keep from breaking out laughing herself. Soberly, she crouched and began to discuss the pros and cons of various techniques, and pledged to plan a ‘play date’. “This child is getting completely out of hand,” Tony said under his breath.

“You earned it,” Steve managed around an amused little wheeze.

Nat and Morgan’s conversation had jumped to the contents of the bowl. “It’s Olivier salad, a traditional Russian Christmas dish. Even though you barbarians celebrate too early,” she added with a faux-judgmental glance toward the men. Morgan frowned. “In Russia, where I grew up, Christmas isn’t celebrated until January,” Nat explained.

“Wow! Did Santa come see you twice when you were little?”

Steve and Tony exchanged looks. They had never asked, but it was a pretty good bet the Red Room had never acknowledged Christmas at all. Nat just smiled, and Tony found himself hating that it had taken the Avengers so long to let each other in this way. Better late than never, though. “C’mon Morgoona, let’s get in the house before we all freeze into juice pops,” he told his daughter. “You definitely don’t want a repeat performance of Capsicle Live,” he added to Steve as they followed, Morgan clinging to the hem of Nat’s SHIELD jacket. “How’re you two? Must suck to have those old infirmities back.”

“Aah, not so much with modern medicine,” Steve hung his and Nat’s coats inside the door while greetings rang all around and Pepper claimed the salad. “We’re good. Thinking about adopting, actually.”

Tony halted in his tracks. “Yeah? That’s, wow, that’s new.”

“Nat met a young girl, a little older than Morgan—her parents were both SHIELD agents, and died in an accident on assignment. We’re considering it, if Katya wants us.”

A small laugh escaped Tony, fully processing the loving way Steve was gazing at Nat with Morgan. “Never thought about you two as a couple, but you seem so—easy, together.” Looking back, he should have seen the signs, he thought; if not before, then when they returned from Vormir with Nat as close to panic as Tony had ever seen her, the Soul Stone in one hand and a Steve Rogers barely bigger than her gasping in the other.

“It’s not so easy. You know us. We may be retired, but she’s still the Black Widow, and I’m still, well, me. We had good role models, though.” At Tony’s puzzled look, Steve went on, “You and Pepper. You never gave up on each other. You inspired us.”

“Consider my flabber gasted.”

“Course, now Nat can whoop me if I get out of line.”

“Bullshit.”

They leaned against the wall and watched Peter and Nebula tumble in and another round of greetings start. “What’d it feel like?” Tony asked after a minute. “Waking up at the foot of that cliff, in your old body?”

“Not as bad as I expected. Don’t tell the Soul Stone, but—you know how Red Skull said what it wanted? _‘In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange.’_ Well…maybe I didn’t love what the serum did to me, all that much. I always hated bullies, obviously.” He gestured with one hand at his thin frame. “By the end though, there were times I thought I was a bully. I know I bullied you, and I can’t say enough times how sorry I am—”

“Knock it off, Rogers. It’s Christmas, and you’re already trying to get all maudlin, and you aren’t even half drunk.” Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Are you? Can you get drunk now? You can, can’t you?”

A pink flush crept up Steve’s neck from the collar of his Irish sweater. “Yeah, found that out pretty fast, one night out with Bucky, Sam and Nat. I think you were still in the hospital, but you should’ve seen me. You might see me yet; I’m almost sure one of those bastards video’ed it.”

“Ha! Well, till then, come on, let’s get you some spiked eggnog. I’ve waited my entire life to see you tipsy.”

No formal grace was said when dinner was ready, but Tony, despite his history of nonbelief, found himself thinking, _if somebody is out there, thanks, for all this_. The group gathered around the fire afterwards with more eggnog. May put her foot down and refused to allow Peter any spiked; he wilted in disappointment, but perked up when Pepper said, “I’m going virgin tonight too, Peter. We’ll just point at them and laugh.”

Tony collapsed in a food coma on the sofa and absorbed the happy chatter, his eyes drifting to the hearth festooned with stockings. After JARVIS’ was lost with the Malibu house, he hadn’t gotten around to replacing it before JARVIS himself was lost, but he got FRIDAY one. When he and Pep had hung it with the ones for the bots and Morgan, Nebula had had to have an explanation of yet another odd human custom. Morgan had explained, in her delightedly disjointed way, and Nebula had wistfully admitted she couldn’t remember having received any gifts. A shiny silver lame’ stocking had promptly been fabricated and tacked up at one end of the mantel.

“Daddy?” Morgan clambered up beside him. “Can Peter stay over? FRIDAY says Santa's tech blocks her cameras, so me and Neb are gonna stay up and lie in wait for him and we want Peter to wait with us. Neb wants to capture him and find out how he flies.”

“Knowledge of a unique propulsion system could be most useful,” Nebula affirmed.

“I’d like to, Morgie, I’d love to!” Peter said from his seat on the rug. “But I’m supposed to go to MJ’s tomorrow, remember? And I, uh, I sure don’t want to be late, or get all in a rush and drop her cookies, or fall off a building or, you know, whatever Parker luck has in store.”

“I’ll drive you,” Tony offered from his sprawl.

“Oh—thanks, Mr, um, Tony, but I don’t want to be trouble—”

“Underoos,” Tony said patiently, “after all we’ve been through together, driving you to your girlfriend’s house is the last thing I’d call trouble.”

Peter blushed to his roots. Morgan jumped up and danced around singing, “Peter’s got a girlfriend, Peter’s got a girlfriend.” Peter grabbed her and tried to shut her up by tickling her. The laughter that burst through the room was as warming as the fire.

As people moved to leave, it started to snow. Morgan was overjoyed. “This’ll make it easier to track Santa! We can see his bootprints in the snow!” Nebula concurred and began to lay plans to train Morgan in stalking prey. Natasha joined in the discussion. Tony threw his hands up and gave in.

“Petey, we’ll hold onto all our presents until you get home tomorrow,” May promised as she and Happy left, followed by Steve and Natasha. While Pepper and the kids cleared dishes, Tony took advantage of the distraction to slip back into the living room and reclaim the little bag that contained her gift from under the tree. Her earlier comment about activities after Morgan was in bed had collided in his brain with a hope he could coax her to try the suit on. He couldn’t help it, and he refused to apologize for it; seeing her, so strong and beautiful, wearing gear he had built with his own hands for her, drove him kind of nuts.

Cleaning done, the focus shifted to the heap of presents under the tree. Morgan’s were off limits until morning, but she begged to open one tonight. Tony was the wrong one to ask, or, rather, the right one, from Morgan’s point of view. Everybody knew he was completely wrapped around her finger, and he didn’t deny it. With an indulgent look, Pepper acquiesced.

Naturally, she chose the biggest box, which contained a remote-control jeep painted in iconic gold and red. Later, after she was asleep, Tony would bring in the full-sized (kid-sized, at any rate) version currently hidden in the garage. It wasn’t as easy to hide stuff from her as it used to be; the day she had burst out of her little tent out back wearing her knitted Iron Man gauntlet and Pepper’s Rescue helmet was a vivid memory for him. FRIDAY kept an eye on her when she got into the garage, and wouldn’t let her access anything chancy, but her little hands were starting to itch. Another cherished memory was the afternoon he’d turned around from some delicate attention-consuming work on War Machine’s circuitry, to find his baby girl sitting on the concrete floor happily screwing nuts onto bolts and stringing them on bits of insulated wire to make a necklace she proudly wore.

After quickly mastering the remote and driving the tiny vehicle all over the room, and nearly into the fireplace, and over Peter’s feet, Morgan dropped it and jumped up. “You have to open my presents now!”

Tony glanced at Pepper, expecting another fond smile for whatever Morgan had ‘helped’ pick out for everybody. Instead, she was looking at him with the same air of expectation, which morphed quickly into confusion. “You didn’t--?” she started.

“No!” he said. “I figured you did, you always do, and last year you bought whatever she grabbed off the shelf; although, granted, those green sloth cufflinks _are_ among my favorites…”

“Uncle Rhodey helped me this year!” Morgan cut in, beaming with pride as she passed wrapped packages around. Tony opened the one she handed him and found a brightly colored drawing of Iron Man labeled DADDY in her trademark scrawl, framed in rustic barn wood. “I picked out the wood and he made the frames.”

Tony almost said _fuck_ but reined himself in just in time. “It’s been—wow, I can’t remember the last time I saw Rhodey doing woodworking. When we met, he was hauling broken-down furniture out of dumpsters around campus, carrying them back to the Hobby Shop and retooling them. Said it helped him relax after class.” He examined the flawless corner joins and the smooth silver-grey wood with admiration. “He’s still got it.”

Nebula regarded her drawing thoughtfully. “It reminds me of a great artist I killed on H’tesvbr. If I took Morgan out to the Esvbri’ive system, she would become a legend in three rotations, if not less.” Tony was still trying to parse out how serious she was when she let a small smirk slip. Pepper snorted.

“Does that mean you like it?” Morgan asked.

“It means I like it very much,” Nebula assured her.

Pepper opened her package from Peter and found a carry-on bag woven of an oddly familiar silver-grey fiber. “It’s my webbing,” he explained. “I’ve been messing with it in the chem lab at school, and I figured out how to make it permanent. It’s got the same tensile strength, and it’s super easy to clean. Most stuff rolls right off. Ned threw a burger from the cafeteria at it and the grease didn’t even stain it.” As Pepper exclaimed in delight, he admitted, “I, um, was gonna make you a nice scarf, but MJ told me if I caved to stereotypes she’d never speak to me again, so, yeah.”

“Well, thank her for her feminist sensibilities,” Pepper chuckled. “And thank _you_ ” Tony thought about the Grand Uniforme scarf in the bag upstairs, and squirmed.

Morgan got a child-sized version of her mommy’s bag, and Tony a larger one with adjustable straps. “It’s not, like, a diaper bag,” Peter hastened to point out. “Since, y’know, I missed Morgan’s baby days.” A fleeting look of sadness crossed his face, and Tony’s heart ached. “But I asked Mr. Duarte at school, he’s got a little boy Morgan’s age, and he said kids need a ton of stuff anyway, clothes and snacks, and things I wouldn’t ever think of! So hopefully it’ll be useful when you take her out.”

“This is remarkable, kid,” Tony enthused. “I didn’t know Midtown’s lab had the equipment to knock this kind of gear out.”

“It doesn’t,” Peter confessed. “I, ah, I did the fabricating in your lab? While you were working on other stuff.”

“You used my tech behind my back to make my present?” Tony razzed him. Peter evidently took the joshing far too seriously, because he flushed and stammered an apology. “Pete? Stop. I’m kidding. You made something for me. That’s more than I…” Tony looked at the bag on his lap, and the framed drawing lying beside him on the couch, and was a bit overwhelmed. _I might never have had this, any of it. I came so close to losing this chance to be with my kids, forever_. Pepper’s hand landed on his leg, and her smile when he looked up was wise and understanding. He turned his face away, and even went so far as to surreptitiously wipe his damp cheek on the shoulder of his sweater; the great Tony Stark couldn’t very well be seen crying on Christmas Eve after all.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Peter was saying to Nebula, when Tony tuned back in, “so I didn’t bring anything for you. Sorry.”

“No apology is necessary. I will ask one gift from you—teach me how to do those tricks with the string.” She reached for her pack, which she had brought down from the guest bedroom she habitually used at some point earlier in the evening. “I did not expect you either, but you might appreciate this.” She pulled out a small packet wrapped in some type of paper and handed it over. “It is a sweet only made on the planet R’yleh. Only about ten percent of non-native inhabitants can taste it, but those who can say it is transcendent. Those who cannot taste it eliminate it…very quickly and explosively.”

Tony was intrigued. Pepper looked appalled. Morgan burst into peals of laughter. “You mean it gives you the _poops_?”

“Bright blue ‘poops',” Nebula informed her.

“I wanna try it!” Morgan squealed, then pouted when her parents swiftly shut that idea down. Peter thanked Neb and tucked it away with a grin that held a hint of some nefarious purpose.

For Pep, Nebula had a pendant, a beautiful bug with iridescent wings enclosed in something like resin or amber. It looked incredibly fragile, but Nebula said, “It is one of the strongest creatures in the galaxy for its size and weight, so it reminded me of you.” Pepper covered her mouth, plainly moved, and immediately asked Tony to help her put it on. His tired fingers were a little slow and clumsy, but they managed.

“Morgan, since your parents will not allow me to abduct you and make your name celebrated across many worlds, _and_ they also insist you are too young for bladed weaponry,” she went on, delving into her bag again, “I have this for you.” Neb placed a hank of cord in her hands, with a small rubbery ball and a bright red tassel attached to one end. “On the world where this was made, they call it the fist of the god Nkobo; here on your planet it is known as a meteor hammer, among other names. Learning to wield it teaches balance, reflex, and awareness of your body’s place in space.” Tony opened his mouth, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say to all that, but Nebula looked up at him with a look close to pleading, something he had rarely if ever seen on her face. “I was obliged to learn to defend myself when no older than her. She has the advantage of you, and Pepper and your friends, to protect her, but if—if you were not there, she should know how to protect herself.” That was the real gift Nebula was giving, Tony realized: her caring.

Big brown eyes took up most of Morgan’s face. “You’ll show me how it works, right?”

“Of course,” Nebula nodded. “I have a small gift for Rhodey, right here.” She patted her pocket before she returned to her pack one more time, and handed Tony what looked like a paper football folded from silvery foil. His smile was a little shaky, thinking back to the nightmare they had endured that bonded them together. “Unfold it,” she urged. As soon as he pulled the flap free, it sprang out into a large, paper-thin rectangle with a satiny black finish. Following her directions, he spread it on the coffee table and tapped one corner with a fingertip, and it went stiff. “Write on it, with your finger, or some implement.” He scrawled his signature across the surface, tapped the corner again and marveled when the thing went limp enough to fold back into a fucking paper football. Reopened, the writing still showed, but a tap on the opposite corner cleared what he now realized was an impossibly thin screen.

“I thought you might enjoy it,” she said, almost shyly. “With some exploration, I imagine you can join it to FRIDAY and your other devices.”

“Absolutely,” Tony almost gasped. “I can play with this for months!” He swiftly folded it back into football shape and flicked it at her. “Then when you’re here we can play with it. When you’re not playing with Rhodey.” Pepper groaned. Peter gasped and covered Morgan’s ears. Nebula blushed bright blue and threatened to cut various parts of him off, but she was clearly trying not to laugh. Tony looked around at the faces in the glow of the fire, and swallowed back another surge of emotion. “Okay, innuendo break over. More presents!” He rummaged among the gifts under the tree (noticing the last one with his name on it had vanished) and handed Nebula hers. “I assembled it especially for you,” he explained as she opened it to reveal a tiny customized tool kit. “Since I’ve had some experience rooting around in your circuitry, I put everything in there that I could think of, so you can fix anything that might go wrong with your new mods, no matter how far out on the back side of some science-forsaken planet you happen to be on.”

Pepper’s gift to Nebula was a beautiful leather-bound journal in which she had hand-written recipes for many dishes Neb had especially liked. Nebula was in awe. “It’s so—archaic, and antiquated. I love it.”

“Pete,” Tony said, “Pep and I had an idea, and I ran it past your Mr. Harrington at Midtown—”  


“You talked to Mr. Harrington?” Peter gulped.

“Yes. Why? You got something to hide there, underoos?”

“Uh, no! No. it just—that’s weird. Worlds colliding, and all.”

Pepper smiled and patted Peter’s shoulder. “I promise, Tony is not going to become a helicopter mentor. Right, Tony?”

“Course not,” Tony lied, ignoring her warning tone. “Anyway, he said you guys were hoping for a big class trip in the spring, but the school’s financial status was dicey, with having to compensate for…for the kids and teachers who got snapped, coming back, and all that. So! Stark Industries is going to sponsor the trip. We were just gonna send you on a decadent grand tour of Europe, but I’d have to go along to chaperone—”

“You most certainly would not,” Pepper demurred.

Tony waved her off. “—and how much fun would that be anyway, with just an old man for company? Then once we added your guy in the chair, and your girl, well, might as well go all in. We’ll set something up after New Year’s at the school. Pep and I can bring one of those giant fake checks, maybe some balloons, hire Wayne Brady away from Publishers Clearinghouse for the day—”

“No, I mean, that’s not, ah, necessary, but, um—”

Tony watched Peter sputter, but was surprised when the kid scrambled up from the floor and hugged Pep, then all but threw himself into Tony’s arms. “You didn’t have to,” he quavered into Tony’s neck. “You didn’t—don’t—have to promise me anything, or give me anything, I’ve got all I want already.” He pulled back to look into Tony’s face, his eyes as big as Morgan’s. “I’m back. I’m okay, and May’s okay, and I have—this—” He flipped a hand to take in the room, the people, the house. “You. I have all of you, and nothing could be better than that.”

Tony pressed his lips together, hugged Peter tightly, and fought back the tears threatening to leak again, sentimental old man that he had become. “You’re right, kid. You’ve got us, and we’ve got you, and nothing could be better.”

Morgan was watching keenly when they parted and Peter hugged Pepper again before he flopped back down on the floor. “Why do people cry when they’re happy?” she asked Nebula.

“I am not sure,” Neb replied. “I suppose we shall have to learn together!”

With a sniffly laugh, Pepper went to the kitchen and returned with drinks for all: mulled wine for Tony, and Nebula once she had had a taste, and more virgin nog for the kids and herself. For all of five minutes, Morgan lobbied for bundling up and going outside to try her new weapon, until Tony reminded her it might scare Santa’s reindeer. She tabled that plan, in favor of teaching Nebula the names of the reindeer, while Tony and Pepper cuddled. Finally Tony stood, pulled Pep to her feet, and paused to get his balance. “We’re heading upstairs, Morgoona. Got to give your mom her present.”

“It is a good thing then, that I did not draw my knife on you earlier,” Nebula said in total seriousness, but with that cheeky little smile attempting to break through. Peter nearly choked on his nog.

Upstairs, Tony presented Pepper with the bag. She didn’t miss the electrical tape, and teased him gently when she saw the scarf. “I’m kidding. Tony. It’s beautiful, and just my style.” Feeling the weight wrapped in the silk, she pulled the bracelets out, exclaiming, and put them on. “They’re gorgeous. Does this mean I’m your Wonder Woman?”

“That goes without saying,” he grinned and stepped back. “Tap them together.”

She did and then gasped aloud when the nanites flowed out and into the shape of the Rescue suit. The mask flipped open to reveal her amazed face. “Tony, this is…”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said softly. “You and FRIDAY can work out a specific sequence of taps to activate and deactivate. Wouldn’t do for you to accidentally unsuit in the middle of a fight. Although unsuiting right now might be just the ticket.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, and she let out a little laugh and tapped the wristplates together. As the suit flowed back into storage, though, her face seemed more uneasy than horny. “I need to give you your present. I…hope it’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he scoffed. She sat him down, produced his missing gift and handed it over. It was a medium-sized flat box, the type a shirt might come in, but Pepper rarely if ever got him something that ordinary. He tore into the paper like the kid he still was (and had too seldom been allowed to be, at the time) and lifted the lid. Nestled in a froth of tissue paper was a tiny Iron Man footie pajama. Morgan hadn’t had many suit-themed things as a baby; Tony had been so depressed after failing to stop Thanos and losing Peter. It had been the first time since the night he took Mark 2 on its first test flight that he hadn’t wanted anything around that even reminded him of his other self. This was far too small for Morgan, though. Then he spied something lying next to it: a beige plastic stick, with a red plus sign. He looked up at Pepper, his mouth falling open in shock. “Pep, um…?”

“I think it happened that day you did the most recent upgrades on my current suit. Remember, you were having a really good day, we went flying and you got through the whole flight without getting woozy, and Morgan was having a sleepover at May’s, and we…well, my birth control implant had run out, and considering everything that had been going on, with you in the hospital and then coming home, plus everybody coming back, and getting SI back in line, I hadn’t had time to get it replaced. I hope you aren’t upset, I know we’re both getting a little old for another child, and we weren’t planning on it, with your health and all, but—” Tony cut her babble off by grabbing her and holding her tight. “Tony? Honey? Are you okay?”

“Morg’s right,” he managed. “Tears of joy, how crazy is that? How crazy is this—it’s so hard sometimes, to believe this is my life now, that I could ever somehow have deserved to be this damn _happy_. How could you ever think I might be upset by having a baby with you? _You_ may be upset, though, I haven’t figured out yet how to upgrade BARF so I can help you with the labor.”

“Shush,” she said, and touched Nebula’s necklace, with a significant look. “Not saying I’d turn it down if you did, but that’s not going to slow me down any.” Her hand moved to her other wrist. “I guess we’ll get to see how much the nanites can expand over the next months, huh?”

“Oh no, no, no. No suiting up anytime soon for you, mama!” He grabbed her nearer wrist and they tussled playfully on the bed for a minute.

“I asked today!” she countered. “My GYN says as long as I’m not putting pressure on the baby, or in a situation risking impact, it’s fine to fly as long as I feel up to it.” Tony started to argue, but Pep put her finger to his lips and nodded toward the stairs, where no sound could be heard.

They slipped down and found all three sound asleep, curled around each other on the floor by the fire like a pile of kittens. Tony slid outside to get Morgan’s car; he had planned to drive it across the yard, but the snow was piling up, and he worried the noise would wake her. After a moment’s thought, he formulated a plan. A quick tap on the housing on his chest unleashed his nanites, and he sighed in comfort as the suit wrapped around him. It didn’t matter how much or how little he was able to get into the armor, he was always going to be Iron Man.

With repulsors on lowest setting, he put his plan into action. A short flight to the garage to get the mini-jeep, then back to set it on the porch, came first. Next, he tromped down the steps and into a clear patch of yard near Gerald’s shed, where he spent a couple of minutes stomping snow, scattering the hay and feed, and breaking a few branches, then retraced his path back to the house and flipped his faceplate up. “There,” he said quietly, partly to not wake his daughter, and partly just because snow seemed to call for lower voices, to Pepper who had come out onto the porch to watch his antics. “One nicely fabricated sleigh landing zone, with a round-trip of incriminating Claus-marks on the side.”

“No hoof tracks?” Her eyebrow rose in skepticism.

He shrugged. “If I’d thought of this longer ago than a few hours, I could’ve rigged something up. Best I could do on such short notice is airlift Gerald there and back. I don’t think that would end well for either him or me, and he doesn’t have hooves anyhow. So, I dunno, they’re lighter than the old fat guy and their tracks got blown away, maybe? Help me out here, mama.”

“Sounds plausible.”

In the suit, carrying the little car inside was a piece of cake. Walking quietly in the suit was a skill Tony hadn’t practiced in a while, but he pulled it off. As he set it on its small tires beside the tree, Peter stirred and opened one eye. Tony signed for quiet, and Pete grinned sleepily, wrapped himself around Morgan, and closed his eyes again. When Tony backtracked, he noticed wet muddy boot-tracks from the door to the tree. He pointed them out silently, but Pepper looked unperturbed. Then he got one more good idea, and touched the bracelets she was still wearing. “Might as well get as much flight time in as you can now, if you got doctor’s clearance. That baby’s gonna play hell with your stability in the air. Trust me—remember when I gained ten pounds and crashed into a tree trying to bank?” They took a few loops over the lake amid the light fluffy snowfall, before coming back and getting ready for bed. Tony was still in a bit of a daze, shaken with joy. He sat on the bed and listened to the old Christmas songs FRI was still playing softly, and tried to wrap his head around the day. “Pep,” he asked when she came out of the bathroom, “when did I get to be such an old sap?”

“We all get older,” she returned, “and you’ve always been a sap. You’ve finally gotten around to accepting it, that’s all.”

“Was not a sap,” he mumbled. “Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. Sap was nowhere in the job description.”

“Made Christmas stockings for bots, kept your dad’s old lounging robe, bought an overpriced painting that I liked even though you thought it was awful and then hung it in my office…brought me fruit to try to apologize for being an ass…”

“Fruit you were allergic to.”

“Eh, it was the thought that counted.” She bent and touched her nose to his. “Sap.”

He pushed himself to his feet and took her hand. “A Christmas dance, madam?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

+++

Morgan woke Tony and Pepper in the morning screeching with excitement. “Mommy! Daddy! Santa came! He left proof!” They let her drag them downstairs in the pale dawn light and point out the dirty damp bootprints. “They’re only coming inside, though, not going out. He’s not hiding here someplace, is he?”

Tony gulped, but before he could concoct a cover for his slipup, Peter jumped in. “Your car would’ve been too big to bring down the chimney, Morg, so Santa had to come through the door. Then I bet he went up the chimney to leave.”

“Great detective work, kid!” Tony said heartily. “Worthy of Sherlock Holmes. After a certain little girl eats breakfast and gets warmly dressed, you and Neb might take her outside and look for any sleigh tracks—it had to land somewhere near here.”

They did, and Peter even volunteered to spare Tony’s poor body and shovel a track so Morgan could take her new ride for a spin. The test drive was interrupted by a sudden roar from overhead. Looking up, Tony saw the _Benatar_ descending. It landed, and Peter Quill popped out with a Santa hat perched on his head and a bag over his shoulder. “Ho-ho-ho!” he hollered. “Merry Christmas!”

Morgan hit her brakes and glared. “You’re not Santa.”

“True,” Nebula agreed, thoroughly unimpressed. “I have seen Santa, Quill. You are not jolly and plump and generous. Well, perhaps a bit plump.”

Quill grimaced. “Was that necessary?”

Nebula gave an expansive shrug, just as a familiar voice roared through the cold air. “Anthony!” Thor whooped and stormed across the snowy yard with the other Guardians trailing in his wake. “Lady Pepper! Greetings, friends all!”

Tony’s shocked pleasure was abruptly augmented by suspicion at Nebula’s relaxed reaction. “Blue Meanie, you knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps your friend wished to surprise you,” she replied.

Quill reached the porch and unslung his pack. “I remember Christmases with my mom, when I was a kid—that’s one of the few things I really do remember, actually. Thor wanted to drop in on you, and I kinda liked the idea, thought maybe I could have a chance at a real Christmas on earth again.”

“Star-Lord told us about this celebration.” Mantis’ antennae quivered as she scooped up a handful of snow, shivered, but inspected it with fascination. “I admit, I’m a bit confused, but it sounds delightful.”

“Considering some of the early Scandinavian takes that merged into the character of Santa Claus were inspired by father’s more printable escapades, I thought I should be here to join in your revels,” Thor said while he swept a squealing Morgan up in his grasp.

“You’re all welcome,” Pepper said. “I think we have enough breakfast left to go around.”

“We aren’t gonna eat you out of house and home, Mrs. Stark!” Quill protested and hefted his bag. “We brought stuff. Delicacies from all over the galaxy!”

“No,” Pepper declared. “You want earth Christmas, you get earth Christmas. Anybody object to biscuits and country ham?” Quill’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. “I’ll take that as a no. Nebula, you’ve gotten good with the biscuits, would you go take another batch out of the freezer?” Neb’s face brightened, as though thrilled to be put in charge of a household task, and she hustled back inside.

Thor was passing Morgan back and forth with Drax, who, having lost his family, had quickly grown fond of her; she chattered, perched on one and then another massive shoulder, then climbed down to show them her new car. Peter and Mantis were talking shyly, renewing the acquaintance they had first forged in battle in this gentler setting. Tony held Pepper close, his hand resting over her belly. “Merry Christmas, Tony,” she breathed in his ear.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure is.”

**Author's Note:**

> what Amy asked for: "I would love a post-Endgame fic that is a fix it because Tony is alive and well with his family. I would love the story to be set around (during) Xmas because one thing I'd love to happen is for Pepper to find out she's pregnant. I don't want her pregnancy to be the main focus of the story but I would love for it to be something that's not mentioned in passing. Oh please I need Peter to be in this with him and Morgan maybe waiting up Santa but not quite making it and falling asleep snuggled up together by the fireplace? Oh please include Nebula too (I am okay with her having a sister or daughter status with Tony and the family)."
> 
> Upon being asked for any further requests: "Uh let’s see? I think I covered most of everything (glad I make a habit of saving what I submit to these things) but I forgot to include Rhodey *gasps*!!! A moment between him and Tony wouldn’t go amiss with me because when I look back on the MCU I feel starved (deprived) the only hug we got for them was in Iron Man! I’d love a moment between them, and a hug doesn’t have to be in there but I think even if it is not I would love it if Rhodey were to tell him this has to be the last time he scares him (I bet he’ll correct me to us quickly) so badly. Maybe he tells Tony when he saw him on battlefield post-Snap, he really thought that was the end of the road. Anyway use your discretion but yes please do include Rhodey! I am so excited and cannot wait to read this!"
> 
> I have no idea how seriously Nebula is taking the whole Santa thing. I asked, but she just gave me that look and I backed off before she pulled a knife on me.
> 
> Yes, Tony is wearing RDJ's red sweater from the Dolittle-Alexa holiday ad, AND smol Steve is wearing Ransom's sweater from Knives Out. lol
> 
> Tony calls Carol Trinity because when she descended during the battle at the compound, her flight moves reminded him of the character in The Matrix.
> 
> Nat said Merry Christmas in Russian, of course.
> 
> If you saw the Ellen Degeneres gifting special and saw RDJ wipe his cheek on his jacket shoulder so it wouldn’t be so obvious he was crying, that is the same move Tony made while opening presents.
> 
> Some links: Here's an expert using Morgan's meteor hammer-- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvIwg0RyW1E
> 
> A recipe for Natasha's holiday salad: https://milkandbun.com/2016/01/06/russian-winter-salad-olivier-salad/
> 
> Tony mentions Rhodey doing woodworking at the Hobby Shop, which is a real place on the MIT campus! https://studentlife.mit.edu/hobbyshop
> 
> And Pepper's scarf-- d2mpxrrcad19ou.cloudfront.net/item_images/1028759/11036648_fullsize.jpg
> 
> Happy holidays and much love to all y'all!! {{{squishes}}}


End file.
